


I’m Not Entirely Okay, But I’ll Get There

by FierySprites



Series: Make a Friend [13]
Category: Kirby (Video Games), Kirby - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Anniversary, Emotional Baggage, Extra Modes Are Canon, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mid-Star Allies, One-Shot, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-19 05:11:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18131381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FierySprites/pseuds/FierySprites
Summary: As a puffball and his friends traverse the galaxy, a traveler visits his home again, a regent mourns his lost love, and a secretary struggles with her emotions.(A one-shot set duringKirby Star Allies, focused on the perspectives of Magolor, Taranza, and Susie in the Make a Friend ‘verse. Written in celebration of Star Allies’ one-year anniversary!)





	I’m Not Entirely Okay, But I’ll Get There

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is set during the events of _Kirby Star Allies,_ though references to that game are fairly minimal. None of the Wave 3 Dream Friends are adventuring with the Star Allies during the main campaign.
> 
> This fic will contain spoilers for _Kirby: Triple Deluxe_ and _Kirby: Planet Robobot,_ though they shouldn’t really come as much of a surprise anymore.

**Halcandra  
Dangerous Dinner – Landia’s Nest**

The sounds of a loud engine winding down billowed through the volcanic field. Landia’s four heads opened up each of their pair of eyes, watching the massive technological ship as it descended to the ground and landed not too far away from their nest. Silently, synchronized in a way, they flapped their wings and glided to the ship’s visible entrance.

The circular door opened up, a ramp extended from its place to the floor—and Magolor, captain of the Lor Starcutter, exited into his homeworld of Halcandra. He wiped some sweat from his forehead. “Phew,” he breathed. “Here I am again.” He glanced around at the magma-infested region he had come to know fairly decently over the past seven-or-so years, where once he had dismissed it as an virtually empty wasteland. “…good to see that nothing’s changed radically, I guess.”

He turned his attention back forward, and warmly smiled at the sight of the four-headed dragon coming to meet him. “…hello, Landia,” he said.

Landia nodded, no trace of malice in their any of their green eyes. _“Welcome back, Magolor,”_ they greeted him back.

The Halcandran mage floated over to his once-nemesis. “How have things been, ‘round here?” he asked. “I don’t really get the chance to come here all that often, since I travel the multiverse so much…” He bit his lip, a light worry building up within his ~~thankfully uncorrupted~~ heart.

 _“You have nothing to fear,”_ Landia reassured him. _“The technological secrets of Halcandra remain as they are—secret to everyone, minus Kirby and his brave crew. The universe is not under threat from anyone carelessly ignorant of their might. I dare say it has overall been the most peaceful decade in my time as guardian of the Ancients’ treasures.”_

“That’s a relief.” Magolor sat down next to Landia, eventually lying down on his back and gazing up at the spectral starry sky that lay overhead the desolate land of Halcandra. “I… I wouldn’t want anyone to repeat my mistakes and end up… well… you know.” An uncomfortable memory—of being a sad shell, under the control of the Master Crown, forced to fight his former friends under the pretense of an arena clash—surged up to the surface of his mind. “…I still can’t believe I was so dumb,” he muttered self-consciously. “Trying to take over the universe, and using an artifact I knew almost nothing about – especially in terms of its side-effects – to do it. I even knew about Kirby’s reputation, and I chose to try and overtake him anyway.” He scoffed at himself. “…what a fool I was.”

 _“It **was** quite a foolish act,” _Landia conceded, leaning back to stargaze alongside their acquaintance of sorts. _“The Pink Terror’s character and deeds reach out far and wide in this Gamble Galaxy. Very few, if any, have managed to best him when he comes to defend his world and friends from harm. He is a worthy and formidable foe – and it is good that you can stand behind him now, rather than stand **against** him.”_

“…I’m not sure I really deserve it though.” The wizard brought his hands up to his face and stared at them, as if there was that distorted darkness in his palms. “I tricked him, I fought him, I tried to take all that he knew and throw it to the wind – in fact, I should be _dead.”_ He closed his fists, agony running through his mind. “Even after all these years… I—I still don’t understand how I’m alive, or how you and Kirby have managed to forgive me.”

Landia was soundless for a moment, nothing more than a small puff coming out of their nose to indicate their state of mind. The collective formed by their four heads got their gears working within their brains as they calculated an appropriate explanation to give.

 _“…Planet Pop Star has been identified as the ‘World of Miracles’ for a reason,”_ they finally deigned to say. _“True miracles there, thanks to the planet’s innate magic, can happen to those who, on some level, merit even a partial chance to experience happiness. And you managed to fit those requirements well.”_ Their heads turned to Magolor. _“You are fearless, determined—and though you remain mischievous, you are no longer malicious, which is plenty more than I can say for the many would-be conquerors I have seen. You had the potential to change, and to become a friend – and you have undeniably proven yourself to be more than your past transgressions, to both we and Kirby. There is always the possibility of redemption in every soul – and Soul Boss, for that matter. So do not feel ashamed because you feel you haven’t earned this right.”_ They gave their equivalent of a smile at the mage, and they did their best to look sympathetic in spite of their appearance. _“For all intents and purposes… you **have.”**_

“…hmm.” Beneath his mask, the edges of Magolor’s mouth quirked upward as he cocked his head in a happier manner. _I didn’t know they knew how to give pep speeches like that,_ he thought. _That’s… pretty impressive._ “Thank you, Landia,” he said. “You… You know… you’re not too bad at making others feel better.”

 _“It is no problem. If you truly wish to repay whatever favor you feel you have accumulated… do try to tell Kirby and his other friends to visit, at some point. They are certainly a group of individuals who I would like to interact with more, beyond merely being an opponent for them to face. And, well…”_ Landia chuckled. _“It is not as if there is much to do here, after all.”_

Magolor lightheartedly laughed. “Even four-headed dragons desire friendship on some level, huh? …I can relate, I suppose. It _does_ get lonely travelling dimensions with only my ship for company.”

_“It is a good thing that we make good company for each other, then. Now… we have talked enough about these heavy subjects, I believe. Let us watch these starlit skies together, in peace and tranquility.”_

“…yeah. Let’s do that.”

And so, the wizard and the dragon collective lay there for quite a while, both their spirits restored to a respectable level, looking up as a meteor shower inexplicably began to soar across the sky. Every second the shooting stars glimmered through the night served to lighten the mood even more – and it was a gorgeous vision for any one person to witness in the Gamble Galaxy.

(Though, if one were to peer in closely, they would catch hints of purple, flickering within the oncoming storm…)

* * *

**Floralia  
** **Royal Road – Flower Garden**

A beautiful garden, filled to the brim with flowers of all kinds – sunflowers and daisies and roses and lilies and more counting – sat out in the open sunlight, growing serenely beneath the burgeoning spring weather. Crickets and butterflies and insects chirped out, giving the room a life of its own, and doing well to keep nature forever blooming in an otherwise quiet palace.

In a rocking chair perched near the entrance to the garden, facing every florae and allowing a most wondrous composition to be seen, Taranza sat with an unopened photo album in his lap, resting from his duties as acting regent of the land of Floralia. His sad, ethereal eyes gazed outward at the blooming, timeless world before him. “…she would’ve loved to see all of this,” he whispered, in a voice that was barely keeping itself steady.

Normally at this time, Taranza would be performing his solemn duties as the reigning ‘king’ of the sky _(I’m only ruling because no one else wants to step up,_ he dejectedly mused)—but as today, there weren’t any major events that were being held or in need of planning… he felt some time off to… relax… would be alright to have. His subjects _were_ always talking about how he should have some free time to himself – and so, he delegated his tasks to a few of his trusted subordinates and found himself sitting here, in the environment he so painstakingly took care of every single chance he could get.

…he thought he’d feel better after coming to see the fruits of his labor.

But somehow… he felt only more despondent than he normally was.

(…it didn’t take a genius to figure out the reason why.)

“…it’s been over four years,” he sighed, eyes moving down, “and yet… she—she still haunts me to this day.” He recalled a phrase uttered once to him by Dedede: ‘The past is the past—you just gotta move forward now, with everything you’ve got.’ “…I know what you tried to say, Dedede. But…” He brought one of his six hands to rest on the side of his head. “…how do you move on from somebody when y-you’re the one who… who…”

…he couldn’t even say it aloud.

_~~Dear NOVA, how pathetic am I…?~~ _

A voice suddenly called in from outside. “Your—Your Majesty? Are you in here?” Taranza tilted his head to the entrance. It was an undoubtedly feminine voice, more than likely one of the People of the Sky who worked around the palace. “You—You seemed pretty sad, so I just wanted to… find you and see what’s up!”

The arachnid debated with himself for a moment about whether or not he should respond. Finally… “…I’m in here,” he answered. “You can come in.”

The doors opened up, and a yellow fairy with sunflower petal hair waltzed in— _Ivy,_ he recognized. The second she caught sight of the garden, she gasped, her jaw dropping down. “W-Wow… This place is—it’s _beautiful!_ I’ve never seen anything like it…” She looked to Taranza, laying back in his chair. “Your Majesty, did you grow all of this?”

He looked away. “…yeah. I did.”

“You’ve got talent for this type of thing!” she complimented. “You should really let more people see this – if it were me, I wouldn’t want only me to know about it!”

“…maybe.”

Ivy noticed Taranza’s clipped responses and grew more concerned. “…Your Majesty? Are you… okay? You’re barely answering…”

He could’ve lied and said ‘yes’, he knew—he had a penchant for lying to himself for extended periods of time, when it came to his own struggles—but… he just didn’t have the energy to do so. “…no,” he admitted, “I’m… I’m not.” He put a hand on the cover of his photo album and slowly started to open it up. Slightly interested, Ivy moved up to his side to see what he was doing. “I haven’t really been okay for a long time.”

The album contained snapshots from clearly a long-gone era of Taranza’s past: in the images, he was happy and smiling, often accompanied by a spider of suspiciously similar make to his appearance. The two could be seen enjoying themselves in a great many events: walking through the Fine Fields, having a picnic in Lollipop Land, exploring the Wild World… Ivy put a finger to her chin, her memory sparked and reawakened. “That’s… That’s Queen Sectonia, back before she ascended to the throne, isn’t it?” she asked.

Taranza’s silence said it all; his eyes seemed to be transfixed at the better days he used to have with his best friend, ~~just like she used to be~~. At one point, he turned to a photograph of them posing in front of a mirror he had bought from her—the mirror that would unknowingly lead to her demise—and he seemed to slouch further into his seat, even more depressed now.

“…you two used to be close, huh?” Ivy said quietly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen this side of Queen Sectonia anywhere. Did… Did you know what happened to…?”

“…it’s—it’s my fault she’s d-d- _dead.”_ She blinked. _H-Huh?_ His face was buried in a mass of hands now, and tears were flowing freely in-between his fingers. “Sh-She only became who she was because I wanted to get her a g-gift. She only became a tyrant because I let that mirror corrupt her. She only had to d-d-die b-because— _because—!”_ His voice became barely audible—but just as heartbroken. “…because of **me.** C-Can’t you see…? …I’m a terrible person.”

The Fairy of the Sky watched as her regent broke down under the weight of his own perceived sins—and she didn’t know what to do in a situation like this. _I—I never knew he was harboring anything like this…_ she thought. _B-But… I know that… I can’t just let him be said like this…!_ “H-Hey,” she tried to soothe him anyway, “it’s—it’s not your fault! Y-You couldn’t have known that would’ve happened—n-nobody could! S-So! You—You don’t have to cry, Your Majesty… You’re not terrible…”

But her reassurances didn’t help, even though she was putting a lot of effort into assisting however she could. All of the tears pent up from the previous four years of being alone wouldn’t stop leaking from Taranza’s eyes—and in the end, all she could really do was be by his side, pat his back, and let him release all of his waterworks. (And maybe then, she’d be able to figure out a way to make him feel better.) “I’m sorry, Sectonia,” he couldn’t help but mutter, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, **I’m sorryyyyyy…”**_

* * *

**Haltmann Works H.Q.  
** **President’s Office**

Susie sat alone, in her ~~(it should be her father’s)~~ office, behind her desk, eyes boringly reading over a report sent to her on her computer by her company’s employees. Her finger tapped the mouse on her desk rhythmically as her gaze moved back and forth from line to line. After an prolonged period of reading, she nodded in satisfaction, closed out the report, and looked at all the other ones awaiting her in her inbox.

“Let’s see…” she murmured to herself, scrolling through the fairly extensive list. _Gigavolt III R &D, security force recruitment scheduling, update on Clockwork Star activity, the company mid-month financial report…_ She gave each one a quick glance-over, before backing out of them and pinning them to the top to read later. To those who knew Susie in and out – a group of people who could arguably be counted on one hand – this would be moderately out-of-character.

(Susie always read every document delivered to her, physically or digitally, top to bottom. For her not to do so immediately…)

She leaned back, looking about the room she was presently situated in. The workplace she walked into every day—filled with file cabinets and carefully organized shelves, and even her own ‘Business Suit’ sitting in the corner, just in case she needed it—was eerily lifeless, devoid of any standout color schemes or real interior decorations. In the past two years since she had become CEO of the Haltmann Works Company, the company had certainly changed: the planetary mechanization the corporation was known for was halted; she offered services to the True Arena (reluctantly) and to Master Hand; the products her company produced were far less predatory… but she herself?

Not a whole lot had changed.

In all honesty, she was… directionless. Going through the motions. Drifting without much of a purpose, interested only in keeping the last remnant of her father’s memory alive ~~(because that was the only thing she knew how to do anymore)~~.

But that was okay. That was _fine. Really._

So what if she didn’t exactly know what to do? So what if she had no real recourse around that fact? She survived years of her life in Another Dimension, struggling to sustain herself and escape the wrath of all those NOVA-damned Sphere Doomers, and she came out _perfectly fine._

“…I shouldn’t be thinking about this subject,” she shook her head. “It’s unbefitting of a person of my station. I have plenty of hobbies and interests beyond my duties as CEO of this company!” She brought out her fingers and started counting off a barrage of talents. “I exercise in our company gym; I can sing any manner of songs; I perform personal troubleshooting for some of our products…”

But as she was listing her hobbies, a sudden realization struck her: when was the last time she was truly invested in _any_ of those activities? When was the last time she sang ‘The Noble Haltmann’, or sat down for long sessions of programming, or spent longer than half-an-hour doing routine workout?

**_…when was the last time she was actually living a fulfilling life?_ **

…that question didn’t even need to be asked. She mentally counted back the days in her head, starting from March of this year to the day she officially became the leading force behind her father’s company—and just as she had suspected, the last time had been April 28, 2016. The beginning of Planet Pop Star’s Robobot invasion.

…the beginning of the event that would see her father erased from existence altogether.

_And all because she was at last willing to take a shot and finally wake **him** up._

She fought to keep a straight face, to keep tears from welling up in the corners of her eyes. “N-No, that—that can’t be right,” she denied, automatically clenching her fists by unconscious instinct. “D-Dad’s death couldn’t have been the last time.” With a hand on her computer’s mouse, she opened up a document entitled ‘Susie’s Personal Logs’ (did you think she’d call it a diary?)—and lo and behold, very little paragraphs of any substance displayed anything about any proper pastimes she experienced.

She threw her stare at the dating of each entry, just to be safe—and unsurprisingly, that carried the level of preciseness she usually had, too.

Every day was practically the same.

“…so it’s true.” She slumped her head onto her cold, hard desk, the realization of this devastating reality hitting her with a rigidness she hadn’t expected. “…what have I been _doing_ these past couple of years…? I—I promised I’d grow this company ‘the right way’. I vowed to be better than the shell of a man my father became, that I’d one day be able to defeat Pinky—but…” Her energy reserves—metaphorically, of course—seemed to deplete entirely, as she wrapped her head around the existing meaningless of her life. “…how can I do that, when all I’ve _been_ doing is nothing this whole time…?”

That wasn’t quite an accurate statement… but for all intents and purposes, it might as well have been. _What would Pinky say,_ _if he could see me right now…?_

_…wait. Why am I thinking about **Pinky,** of all people?_

_He’s supposed to be an enemy. My greatest adversary. There’s no reason for me to want his company, in my home base, in my office. What do I need for him, infinite power in his soul or not?_ And yet…

**_‘I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t know how to be a good friend. Just because you put on a brave face doesn’t mean you can’t have a moment to cry, too.’_ **

…it wasn’t like he was exactly _against_ being her friend, despite everything the two of them had been through.

She groaned loudly, opening up her eyes halfway with a disgruntled expression on her features. “…I need to go do something,” she grumbled—“as in, _actually_ do something productive. Anything to get my mind off all of this useless nonsense.” She opened up a programming software and decided to get to work making something to assist her company’s needs – but the thoughts that had plagued her moment s earlier refused to leave her. **_What’s wrong with having Kirby around?_** they inquired. **_He’s still somebody—and the person you’re currently the closest to…_**

 _Shut up,_ she mentally hissed, her fingers clacking away at her keyboard. _There’s **plenty** wrong with that. I don’t need him, or his friends, or his friendship. I **don’t.**_

(…her heart, however, said otherwise.)

**Author's Note:**

> The one-year anniversary of _Star Allies’_ release has passed! **_YEAH!_** Over the course of a year’s worth of updates, _Star Allies_ has just barely managed to dethrone _Planet Robobot_ as my all-time favorite Kirby game—and in celebration of its birthday, I wanted to write a little something for it.
> 
> If you’ve been reading the **Make a Friend** fics, then you know that I started writing for this ‘verse long before Wave 3 was announced – and, as such, Magolor, Taranza, and Susie never participated in the main Story Mode. Since I’ve written plenty for the other Dream Friends already—what the heck, I’ll spotlight them here.
> 
> Unsurprisingly, each of these guys has their own baggage to them: Magolor has a bit of guilt over what he did in _Return to Dream Land;_ it’s established in canon that Taranza hasn’t gotten over Sectonia’s death yet; and if you’ve read [Regret for a Dream](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15707184), then you know what Susie’s going through.
> 
> I wanted to tackle each of their perspectives a little bit for this fic, in light of that. I didn’t do too much, because I have plenty of other fics to write, and I wanted to get this out before _Star Allies’_ anniversary passed, so they’re not as perfect as I’d like them to be – but I hope they whet your appetite nevertheless. It was a bit difficult to condense this fic into being less than 5,000 words, after all!
> 
> Well, that’s all for now – see you guys around!


End file.
